


First Choices and Flexibility

by Dwynna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexuality, Dorks in Love, F/F, F/M, Feels, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Pining, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, heaps of snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwynna/pseuds/Dwynna
Summary: Mage Catelyn Trevelyan, alone and in danger without the Circle, seeks refuge in serving the Inquisition. What she did not expect was to be surrounded by such beautiful, passionate people every day. Passion she found they were willing to share with her, however unlikely it seemed. A fun, open, smutty exploration of four of our favorite DA:I personalities, told in four parts. Explicit as of chapter 2.





	1. Finding One's Place

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you so much for your time looking at this work. I have been incredibly nervous to post it, but I am going to give it a shot. This first chapter features a good deal of exposition and character building, but expect explicit content in each chapter beyond. This work has not been beta'd, and I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism and feedback. Cheers darlings, and enjoy!

                Catelyn Travelyan never considered herself terribly lucky. Luckier than most mages? Sure. She spent most of her life in the relatively comfortable Ostwick circle, treated generally well and given a great education, likely influenced by her father’s name. However, she was still a mage, and a mage born just in time for a massive mage rebellion, one that whipped her into the countryside trying to learn how to survive. The rowdy atmosphere from Kirkwall, essentially, _blowing up_ , did not make for comfort north of the Waking Sea. The fact that she lived felt like divine providence, if she had not stolen into a hunter’s cabin who happened to own clothes that sort-of fit, and boots that were a size to small, she never would have passed for a commoner. Saying goodbye to her staff felt hardest, and she wondered what would happen without the focus if she fell into trouble, but pretending was the only sure step to survival.

                She booked passage on a trading ship under the name of Townsend in exchange for services as a mobile apothecary, preserving herbs along the journey as they were picked up in dockings along the way. Finally docking long-term in Val Royeaux, she worked herself toward exhaustion for two weeks straight finishing the work she promised before following one of the herb dealers to Lydes. She struck a deal to run a small stall for him, making various potions and poultices in exchange for housing and a small stipend. Every day, however, held the terror of being discovered.

                Then, _the fucking sky tore._

                Demons became reality. Panic overtook Orlais, though loathe they would have been to show it. A cart of the injured passing through to Val Royeaux evolved into a daily occurrence. Though the bad news swelled like floodwater, there was an undertone of hope. Whispers of an Inquisition turned into strange truths. A band of fellows, led by a woman who closed the tear in the sky with her own hand. A Dalish hunter, no less. She led a fierce band of warriors, names respected far and wide, as well as names completely unheard of. The Orlesian tendency to enhance drama left usually Catelyn skeptical, but after the raucous retelling of the events at the Winter Palace came from a minor noble who imbibed far too much brandy at a local tavern, she found herself swept up by the romanticism of the story.

                A day later, questioning her sanity, she resigned her post, packed lightly, and joined a small caravan on their way to Skyhold. Every time they made camp, more arrived to join the group. By the time they arrived in the small settlement called The Crossroads, they were thirty strong. Soldiers and scouts of the Inquisition began to press deeply into each pilgrim’s past. She dropped the pretense of her false name, identity, in desperate hope that they would understand her situation, and not dismiss her as a dangerous apostate. Their Herald of Andraste was Dalish after all, perhaps they would be more comfortable with taking risks?

                The gamble paid off, and she kissed the ground with joy and relief when they acquiesced to bring her to Skyhold as an apothecary, under probation. No pay, but hard work, three meals a day, and a roof over her head while she proved her worth to their cause.

                In three months, she was Cat, the quiet shadow of Adan who would fall asleep on her desk while waiting for a potion to distill late at night. The mage that wore breeches, linen shirts, and vests instead of robes. The girl who kept an herb sickle on her belt instead of a staff. The one who’s cheeks changed into a ruddy mess after two ales, or when caught staring at the Inquisition Commander. (But honestly, who _didn’t_ turn into a blushing twit around that man?) The woman who really only talked when at a meal or in the tavern. What she was not ready for was becoming a special interest of the Inquisitor herself.

                The first time she set eyes upon Inquisitor Ellana Levellan, Catelyn felt the world shift around the woman, a living legend. She rode astride a dusky hart into the keep, silvery dagger hilts glinting as brightly as her long white hair, starkly contrasted by bronze skin. A full head shorter than Catelyn, her height was the only thing diminutive about her. She exuded confidence, tailored leather armor form-fit to a sleek and strong body, eyes a steely grey in contrast to her jovial temperament. Her personality was infectious, and she had the keep eating out of her palm.

                The first time she met her in person could only be described as unexpected.

                The door to the apothecary swung wide open, banged against the wall, and the tiny elf stood in the doorway with an overloaded crate of blood lotus. A huge grin sprouted dimples below high cheek bones on her handsome face.

                “I think this is plenty for those bee-bombs Sera suggested.” She stated, not realizing that Adan had left a few hours prior to rest.

                “Ahh… bee bombs?”

                “Yeah,” she hefted the crate onto Adan’s empty work bench and rolled her shoulders, turning back to Cat, “like, enchanted bees, from what he told me about the recipe.”

                “I’m sorry, are you saying you found a recipe for a _grenade of bees?_ ” Saying it out loud felt as ridiculous as the concept.

                “That’s the thought.” She shrugged, then arched a delicate white eyebrow, cocking her head at Cat, the change of expression causing her facial tattoos to shift just slightly. “Don’t tell me he hasn’t been sharing the wealth of knowledge? You’re the new apothecary right, the one who was supposed to lighten his work load?” Catelyn blanched, worried of how she looked.

                “Well, if he would trust me to help, I would certainly try to deliver on whatever you need, Your Worship.” Catelyn felt her eyes grow wide as Ellana’s head fell back with barking laughter, her serious pose melting into an amused sway as her laughter passed.

                “Sounds like the grumpy arse, I will chat with him about it later,” she crossed the room and extended her arm, Cat took it by the elbow and was pleased by the strength of her grip, “Catelyn right? Do me a favor and skip the whole ‘Your Worship’ thing, I will be honest that I have not a clue if I am blessed by your Maker, so I would like to keep myself humble. Call me Ellana, or Inquisitor if you absolutely insist.”

                “That’s… a remarkably honest statement, especially among a bunch of Andrastians, isn’t it?”

                “Sorry if I offend, I don’t mean to,” she took her arm away and set her hands on her hips, looking up at Catelyn thoughtfully, “I will not pretend to be something if I am unsure of it, I may not voice my opinion about it outside of these walls, but I will not have anyone in Skyhold fight with me under false pretense.”

                “I appreciate that, Inquisitor,” she hooked her thumbs into her belt and looked at the overflowing crate and smiled, “maybe enough to ransack through my superior’s desk for that grenade recipe.”

                “Truly? You have experience with explosives?”

                “Well, potion-related ones, I brewed a lot of different concoctions in the Circle, it was my specialty.”

                “I like the sound of that.”

                “Don’t be too excited, it just meant that my potions were strong and I didn’t blow up as many stills as my peers.” She was rewarded with another mess of giggles from the pretty elf.

                “I seriously hope you find it,” she grinned as she stepped toward the door, “either way, at least I will have an excuse to come bother you again. Get some rest tonight, Cat.”

                Oh, she was in trouble. Gorgeous, powerful, and humble? Maker, why was she attracted to power? Despite the immediate sense of doom at being attracted to the Herald, life stayed mellow at Skyhold. Catelyn made good on finding the grenade recipe and successfully created a few, earning respect from Adan, enough to let her work alone on tougher tasks. The Inquisitor was also tickled pink, and made pains to take extra time finding rare herbs to improve their work.

                Over time, she found herself growing fond of the formidable woman. She took the time to banter with Adan, herself, and the mages in the library. She did not fear magic, but instead embraced it as natural, and extremely useful. With that attitude, getting along with the Inquisitor felt exciting and new. Cat did not allow herself to get close to anyone at the circle, more than friends. Sexual trysts? Sure, but feelings made things complicated, messy. She took friendships, and pleasure where she could get it, man or woman. The freedom she was given at Skyhold had not fully seeped into her conscious mind, so the little crush she had formed on Ellana stayed silent for a couple months.

Catelyn worked up the nerve to ask Ellana to share a drink at The Herald’s Rest, wondering if she had gone a bit daft from lyrium powder, but was delighted when the Inquisitor gave her a grin and accepted. It was not long after they sat down that the conversation steered toward her companions, a few of which were in the tavern as well. When Cat mentioned the elven apostate Solas, she hid her disappointment well when she saw Ellana’s eyes go hazy, a slow smile quirking her mouth.           

                “He is certainly something.” The words were slow, honey dripping from a spoon.

                “Do tell.” Cat quipped, interested despite herself.

                “I’m not really one for men, if I’m to be honest with you,” she waved a hand dismissively before curling her fingers around her tankard, “but that one is, well, talented.”

                “I don’t believe anyone was disputing that on an academic level, Inquisitor, but you look like a cat with a trapped mouse.”

                “Maybe. What is it you shems say? I don’t kiss and tell?” Cat snorted, Ellana’s face was an open book, and she just was not sharing. Catelyn let out a laugh, a bit louder than she intended, before recovering and hiding her blush behind her ale.

                “I suppose I am just curious as to what pricks your ears.” Ellana considered Cat for a moment, eyebrows knitting together and her head cocked to the side. Her right hand played idly with her long, white braid, and her left lifted her tankard again. A sudden smirk caught Catelyn off guard.

“Patience. Control.” She let her braid fall, and punctuated each word by raising a digit. Catelyn felt the blush rush up her neck and into her cheeks, and Ellana just smiled wider. She fiddled with the ends of her own hair for lack of something to hide her face.

                “Very illuminating.”

                “So I shared, what about you?”

                “Hmm?”

                “What gets your knickers damp, sweetie?”

                “Ellana!” She shouted, oblivious to the looks shot in their direction around the tavern.

                “She uses my real name, perhaps we are finally getting somewhere?” The skin around her eyes crinkled, the dimples appeared on her cheeks, and the pointed canines in her mouth made an appearance. She looked stunning in her triumph.

                “Sorry, I just didn’t quite expect that statement to come out of your mouth.”

                “Just because I am the figurehead for this nonsense does not mean I’ve lost my interest in _company_ , Cat.”

                “Of course, I… I’m sorry, I guess I get swept up with the romance of it all too.” She wrung her hands together, confidence sapped. She did what everyone else in the keep had done at one point or another, stick Ellana on a pedestal.

                “My apologies, Cat,” her hand slid across the short table and took hers, squeezing gently, “I get a little excited at the prospect of a new friend. Most folks treat me like some otherworldly force, it is refreshing when I meet someone who does not immediately act like I glide across the ground rather than walk it. I want you as my friend.” Catelyn gave a shy smile, turning their hands so their fingers could lace. Friendship she could do, absolutely.

                “You’ve got me.”

                After clearing out Emprise du Lion, Cat noticed that Ellana’s patience for politics dwindled considerably. She split her time between the practice ring with the Chargers, and the library with the mages. Her advisors had to come fetch her regularly. Cat enjoyed the increased time with the Inquisitor perched on the opposite end of her workbench, filling her in on her expeditions into the wild parts of the world, sometimes joined by the flashy Tevinter, Dorian. Some days, he would have them in such fits of laughter that it would bring Solas up from the bottom of the rotunda to join in. Not being jealous of him tasked her. One would think that as a trade-off for magical talent, knowledge, and wit, one would at least be unattractive. Not the case. The tallest elf she had ever seen, broad in shoulder, graceful, marble-cut face. Perhaps she just fancied elves in general now. If he noticed her jealousy, he did not indicate it. He took the time to share any information he could find to improve their apothecary, complemented her ability with brewing, and even offered to help train up her offensive skills if she desired. She had yet to take him up on it.

                She found herself in the courtyard with Solas watching the Inquisitor’s retinue pass through the gates after a particularly drawn out trip to the Exalted Plains. Though she was weary, she excitedly handed Catelyn a ridiculously overstuffed crate of herbs, along with a couple of research papers from Val Royeaux on dragon blood. She adjusted the box in her arms, then turned swiftly when she noticed the lovers shuffle to the side to reacquaint. She made for the passageway beneath the main stairs at a quick clip, ignoring her annoyance, but failed to hear the thud of heavy boots approaching until she collided with a very solid body. With a yelp and a crash, Catelyn found herself flat on her ass, propped up by her arms, the crate and its contents spilled to the side, and the shocked face of Commander Cullen staring down at her.

                “Maker’s breath, are you ok?” he was down to a knee in an instant, gripping her by the elbows carefully to help her back to her feet, “I am so sorry, I did not hear you, and I was rushing.” Catelyn could not seem to respond, her tongue stupid in her mouth. He was so handsome up close, hands so strong around her arms.

                “Hell of a way to introduce yourself, Commander.” Ellana snickered behind them, “This is apothecary Catelyn Trevelyan.”

                “Ah, good to finally meet you, Commander.” She found her tongue, and immediately cursed its stupidity.

                “I am not sure I deserve that after knocking you over, my lady.” He missed her shock as he knelt again to start picking up the crate and its contents. She rushed to help, and barely noticing that Ellana and Solas pitched in as well.

                “It’s quite alright, I assure you.”

                “It’s true, she’s fallen off taller barstools before.”

                “Ellana.” She warned, mortified when she heard both men chuckle. That’s it, she was going to go down in history as the murderer of the Herald.

                “Inquisitor, we need you for debriefing.” Cullen sighed as they finished re-packing the crate.

                “I would absolutely love to debrief… after a bath, and some fresh clothes.” Ellana set her hands on her hips as they rose to their feet. “Also, some of that good Antivan brandy, the stuff Josie keeps in her bottom desk drawer. Tell her to bring it and four glasses.”

                “I, well, yes Inquisitor.”

                “I am sure miss Trevelyan would enjoy some help bringing that crate up to the library, if you would be so kind.” Ellana grinned at him, mirth crinkling her eyes as she saw Catelyn turn deep red.

                “Of course,” he smiled gently and retrieved the crate, making it look as if it weighed nothing, “it’s the least I can do.”

                “I can think of a few other things.” Ellana chirped, eliciting a scandalized look from the Commander.

                “Um, follow me Ser, before she mortifies us to death.” Cat grumbled, making for the main stairs. She felt as well as heard him following, and immediately felt insecurity pulse through her. Her tunic was stained from the garden, breeches covered in dirt, long, wavy ebony hair up in a severe bun for the sake of practicality. At least the vest she wore indicated a female shape, she thought mirthlessly. The awkward silence stretched between them only felt redeemable by their shared embarrassment, or so she thought. Ellana mentioned her Commander’s penchant for getting tongue-tied around people who were too forward.

                “She’s certainly a spitfire,” he broke the silence to her surprise as they reached the main doors, sliding into step together, “I was unaware that you were friends.”

                “Oh, yes.” She felt herself smile as they made their way toward the rotunda door, “We became friends over grenades, if you can believe that. Otherwise I think it has been our mutual love of mead and dragons.” He chuckled, the sound musical to her ears. She held the door open for the rotunda and let him pass.

                “Are you saying she’s a bad influence?”

                “On the contrary, I live vicariously through her stories.” She grinned as they ascended the stairs toward her workspace, “Soft thing like me going out in the world? I tried it, barely survived Val Royeaux living. Fairly certain a dragon could exhale in my direction and I would die.” The laugh she earned made her forget some of her earlier embarrassment as he set the crate down on her workbench where she gestured. Her fingers started sifting through the contents, lifting out herbs and setting them into piles to be sorted, clipped, and processed. He watched her for a moment.

                “Anything damaged?”

                “Oh, no, not at all.” She shook her head as she pulled the reports from the bottom, leaving a heaping bunch of elfroot inside, “Nothing was crushed, and there was nothing so rare that required special handling.”

                “I still feel awful for that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, a rather endearing gesture that emphasized how _bloody tall_ he was, “it has been a bit of a challenge lately to get the Inquisitor in for meetings, so when the Ambassador saw her coming, I was sent to fetch like a mabari. Can I make it up to you?”

                “Truly, it is not necessary, Commander, I am alright.”

                “Assuage my guilt, apothecary Trevelyan?” Warm amber eyes set on her clover green, causing them to dart down to her fingers, worrying at the hem of her tunic.

                “I, well,” she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, “yes, sure. I am meeting Ellana and a few of the Chargers tonight for drinks, I think. She promised me, anyway, once she returned from the plains. Join us?”

                “I’ll buy your drinks.” He grinned and it took the breath from her lungs.

                “Ok, great.” Stupid mouth! “And please, feel free to call me Catelyn. Haven’t been called a lady since before the circle.” He saw his eyes soften just slightly, Ellana told her about the Commander’s past, and although he should have frightened her, she just could not see the danger in him.

                “Catelyn it is, I will see you tonight.”

                “Oh, what’s tonight?” Dorian’s immaculate face appeared from behind a nearby bookshelf, eyeing Cullen up and down. “If it involves you being there, I am in.”

                “Drinks with Ellana, remember?” Cat smirked at the eyeroll Cullen gave the mage.

                “And you convinced our dashing Commander along? You will need to let me in on your powers of persuasion.”

                “Try falling on your ass with a crate of herbs in your arms.”

                “Wait, what?”

                “See you tonight, Dorian,” Cullen groaned, turned and looked at her with a little more mirth, “and you, Catelyn.”

                “Until later, Commander.” They both watched him descend the stairs, then leave the rotunda.

                “Bless whoever made that man.” Dorian grinned, and Cat just laughed out loud.

                With the return of the Inquisitor, the Herald’s Rest was a riot of activity well before she arrived with Dorian. Once he ferreted out what had happened between her and the Commander, he spent a fair amount of time digging through her wardrobe for something “suitable” for her to wear while simultaneously talking her in to leaving her hair untied. She cursed him and Ellana in the same breath for trying to play matchmaker, but she could not truly be upset. Not a date, a few drinks with a few colleagues, one of whom would be paying for those drinks. One devilishly handsome, fit, sweet colleague.

                Damn it.

                She played revenge by following Dorian out and raiding his quarters, hoping to find something hideous for him to wear, but failed. She was certain he would make plaidweave look chic. She settled on a high-neck, slim-tailored crimson jacket with gold embroidery and dark doe-skin breeches, and watched him fondly as he preened in a looking glass. She was happy for his taste as well, he had picked out her favorite halla leathers, dyed black, with tall laced boots. Her corseted vest was the color of light charcoal, and her blouse was a comfortable linen number with a wide boat neck and billowing sleeves, dark green as a tree canopy. She felt delightfully feminine without being stuck in a dress or a robe.

                “Forget the rest of them, Dorian, I think we make a handsome couple all on our own.” She smirked as she leaned against his door.

                “Oh, if only you were a man,” he checked his collar one last time before offering an arm, “but I must agree, you and I will be the best-looking things to hit that establishment in weeks.” She took his arm with a giggle and opened the door. His confidence oozed into her as they walked, her smile growing wider as she saw heads snap to look at the beautiful man. To her nerve’s dread, some of the looks were reserved for her as well.

                “So what happened there weeks ago?”

                “Oh, well when you, Ellana, _and_ myself walked in at the same time, of course.” A cheer rose when they entered, the distrust of the Tevinter long-since past. Dorian’s brash charm was backed up by sincerity and loyalty that was difficult to match, none but the most bigoted would think him a threat. Ellana stood from her seat in the middle of a long table, surrounded by a group of the Chargers. She waived them over, the pink stain of alcohol evident on her cheeks. They slipped in with the raucous crew and leaned in as Ellana started filling them in on the latest trip to the Plains. Dressed in a matching royal blue coat, breeches, and boots, she mesmerized the crowd with grand gestures, sound effects, even voices of creatures and people they encountered. She had them in awe and fits of laughter at turns. Cat took advantage of the distraction to observe the room, slightly disappointed that the Commander was not amongst the group. It did not take long for Ellana to capture her attention with a rather spot-on impression of Dorian when she felt a hand gently tap her shoulder. Her eyes snapped up to meet Cullen’s sheepish smile, noting a tankard outstretched toward her. She grinned despite her nerves and took the cup carefully.

                “Hey, Curly!” Varric shouted from several seats down, “Rare to see you out of your high tower!”

                “To what do we owe the pleasure?” A slightly slurred jab came from the Grey Warden Blackwall’s mouth, Ambassador Montiliyet’s amused grin hiding behind her hand from his left.

                “Who said it was about any of _your_ pleasure?” The Commander snorted and unceremoniously elbowed Dorian’s shoulder to move him. He groused and shoved his way to the right, allowing Cullen to sidle in between him and Cat while a howl of laughter rippled through the group.

                “It’s a rare night when you’re in such form. Cabot, another round for the group on me in celebration of the Commander’s rare sense of humor.” Varric’s gravelly voice boomed to the barkeep. Cullen simply rolled his eyes and took a sip of his ale. Cat hid her pink cheeks behind the tankard, taking a small sip and being pleasantly surprised to taste pear brandy. Her eyes flicked up to Ellana’s, who was wearing a wide smirk while her eyes darted between her and her new companion. A moment later, she leapt to the table top and continued her exciting tale of their adventures in the Hissing Wastes.

                “Thank you,” she finally managed to say, leaning slightly over toward Cullen to allow him to hear over the din, “you really did not have to.”

                “Well, it actually is my pleasure to treat you,” He turned his head toward her slowly, his expression soft and somewhat bashful, “besides, the company is quite welcome when I have to deal with these louts.” She laughed softly and took a slow sip, the flavor of the liquid thick and coating.

                “They don’t seem that bad, although I must admit I was close to being offended for you.”

                “What stopped you?”

                “You, ah,” she tapped her lower lip, “seem to be able to handle yourself, I suppose I wanted to see for myself.”

                “Dorian has been slandering my good name, hasn’t he? Telling stories about how I take as many risks as a chantry mouse?” He feigned offense, then smoothed it over with a genuine smile, “I take it in stride, someone around here has to be serious most of the time.”

                “Have you met apothecary Adan?”

                “Precisely my point.” That got her to grin with teeth. She took a long pull on the brandy and took comfort in the warm burn down her throat. The awkwardness she felt earlier was gone, along with her embarrassment from her fall. It felt like an even playing field rather than her playing, poorly, the damsel in distress. They fell into a companionable silence while listening to the conclusion of Ellana’s tale. As a deck of cards appeared for some rounds of Wicked Grace, Cullen noted their empty tankards. He took them without a word to Cabot for a refill, turning back to watch her as he waited.

                “Look at that smitten fool!” Dorian hissed in her ear, startling her. She slapped at his shoulder, noting the color in his cheeks. He was pretty, even while drunk.

                “Don’t be a twit.”

                “Too late and too much wine for that!” He purred, eyes trailing around the room, raking over the forms of various men. She noticed his gaze linger on the Iron Bull for longer than usual.

                “See something you like?” She sniped.

                “Now who’s being a twit?” He had the decency to sound offended. He opened his mouth to complain more when Cullen returned, handing her another sweet brandy and setting his ale on the tabletop. He motioned for Dorian to shove over again, and she watched in amusement as Dorian’s mouth snapped shut and returned to watching the card game. Cullen elected to straddle the bench, facing her, much to the chagrin of the mage beside him. “You make a better door than a window, you are aware?”

                “Is that a problem?” He tossed a glance at Dorian over his shoulder, expression playful.

                “What if I want to chat with my lovely Cat, hm?” The mage arched a sculpted at him.

                “Well, perhaps I don’t want to share?” He said before returning his full attention to her, a laugh escaping him at the huff his friend let out in response. The new seating arrangement was not unwelcomed, but Cat was immediately aware of the proximity change. Her knee met his beneath the table, his torso caging her in on the side, his right knee behind her backside. He was delightfully warm and smelled of ink, parchment, and leather. The liquor was doing its job however, making her much more at ease with the situation than normal. The nagging feeling of not being good enough for someone of his station still clung to the back of her mind, stubborn and mocking. He drew her in with a story of his last experience with Wicked Grace after he politely declined to be dealt in. She could not help but laugh at his expense of having to retreat to the ramparts in the buff. She secretly wished she were there for that show. The evening drew on as such, faces shifting out to be replaced by new ones as time passed. Cat was so taken by her new companion that the pang of jealousy she felt when Solas fetched Ellana for the night was short-lived. Ellana winked at her from across the table before leaving, her lover’s hand at the small of her back.

                Cat noticed that she had drifted right, shoulder resting against Cullen’s chest, and he in turn had curled himself ever so slightly into her. A thrill jolted down her spine, and she wondered how she could drag the night longer. A yawn escaped her unbidden, pulling a soft smile from Cullen.

                “Past light’s out for you?”

                “I’m not tired.” She defended.

                “You’re practically falling asleep on me.”

                “Can’t help it, you’re comfortable.” She mumbled. She felt his arm wind around her back and hug her close for a moment.

                “That is one of the nicest compliments I have heard in a long time, but it does not change the fact that you should probably get some rest.” She nodded at him, half-heartedly, “I’ll escort you to your room?” She got to her feet with some regret, disentangling from him before stepping back over the bench. She noted the way his eyes moved over her then, appraising her height and dress. There was a hint of hunger in his eyes, and she felt her belly twist pleasantly. She quietly cursed him for being a gentleman, and she kept her tongue from clumsily asking if he would like to spend the night. Her companions told her that he was a good one, kind and caring, and she refused to push him into a tumble if he did not initiate. They bid their inebriated friends goodnight, ignoring the lewd cat calls and wolf whistles at their joined exit. Her room was a small space off the east rampart, barely enough space for a bed and desk, but it had a fireplace that kept the room cheery and warm. They walked in companionable silence to her door, their fingers brushing one another’s casually.

                “Tell me you have all you need here?” He asked as they reached the heavy wood door.

                “In the Inquisition?” She asked, sleepy. He nodded and waited for her to continue, “Yes, absolutely. I have more freedom and privacy now than I’ve ever had, I’m fed well, treated well, and get to do work I enjoy. I don’t need riches or fancy things when I wake up each day happy.”

                “I’m… glad.” He said slowly, “I find myself so busy that I do not take enough time to see how our people are faring.”

                “I am sure you have your hands full with your soldiers’ well-being.”

                “Of course, but if it were not for all our men and women here, they would be in far worse shape.” He smiled, “I find myself lucky to be part of this. I also find myself lucky to have met so many excellent people. To have met you.” He said the last phrase quietly, his eyes suddenly trained on the door. She could feel his discomfort with his words.

                “You have no idea how mutual that is, Commander.” She placed herself in his gaze again, a wide grin crossing her face.

                “I’d very much like it if you would call me Cullen.”

                “Well, Cullen,” the liquor made his name fall from her lips slowly, “I’d very much like it if you kissed me goodnight.” For a moment she thought she had been too forward, his eyebrows arched, and his mouth parted slightly. His eyes fell to her lips, then locked back on her own, Cat returning the gaze with confidence. He stepped into her with a single movement, left hand tilting her jaw up while the right arm slipped around her back, pulling her against him and into his warmth. He watched her for a moment before pressing his mouth to hers, soft and slow. Her eyes fluttered shut and she kissed him back, her hands braced against his chest, fingers digging in to the fur of his mantle. When he broke the kiss, she felt a sigh escape her lips, and her eyes cracked open just enough to meet his. Liquid amber ringed blown pupils, and he descended upon her lips again, taking the opportunity to deepen it, both arms wrapping her up securely. When they parted again, both were breathing hard, his lust felt palpable to her.

                “I think…” he stated slowly while his thumbs traced up and down her spine, “I should let you retire before I become a brute.”

                “As much as I want you to,” her heart fluttered when she heard him groan at her words, “I will not press it tonight.” He sighed, clearly torn between himself. He gave her one last, chaste kiss before reluctantly releasing her from his grasp. The loss of his heat was a travesty. She opened her door and walked in slowly before turning to shut it, a flirtatious smile on her face. “However, I do so hope that on one of our next meetings I get to view your ceiling?” It took just a moment for the words to hit him, he looked dazed, but then aggressive and resolute.

                “As you desire, my lady.”

                “Goodnight, Cullen.”

                “Sleep well, Catelyn.” She shut the door before he turned to leave, and heard his heavy sigh through the door before the sound of his boots leading down the ramparts. She sighed and laid her forehead against the door, fingers itching to touch him again. Instead, she let out a harsh laugh, warded the door, and stripped down for bed.

                Ellana would want all the details come morning.


	2. Privacy Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She tugged the cloak closer against her and hurried up to the ramparts. She nodded and smiled at the guards she passed, but felt each step moving quicker as the biting cold chased her heels. She reached the tower that Ellana had mentioned Cullen stayed in, and realized that she had never been in his space before. She giggled nervously to herself before knocking lightly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA one night in the Commander's loft. NSFW, enjoy! <3 The next chapter will be focused on a F/F encounter. I'd love to hear with you think!

                The courtship that developed between Catelyn and Cullen was not kept private, to their mixed feelings. Having friends in high places amongst the Inquisition ensured that every movement, meeting, shared glance, and touch was noticed, despite their interactions being decidedly chaste. Cat wanted to press it further, act on the impulse she saw in his eyes when they caught a moment alone, only to kiss softly before returning to their respective posts. It was almost amusing that he was a former templar in this case, because it felt as if she were sharing forbidden affection in some dark hall of Ostwick’s circle. It had been three weeks since their first encounter at her door, and the wait felt maddening.

                “Lucky, lucky, lucky!” Ellana skipped over to her work table one day, braids bouncing, unloading an impressive cache of dragonthorn to her eagerly awaiting arms.

                “Where did you get all this?” Cat marveled.

                “Oh, here and there, we did just spend a week in Val Royaux after all,” she shrugged, “what I mean is that you are lucky-lucky.”

                “Catch me up, because I certainly do not feel that way.” She huffed dryly, beginning to sift through the pile of rare herbs.

                “I have managed to arrange the perfect opportunity for you to snare the Commander.” She heard Adan cough, mutter something unintelligible, then watched in amusement as he left with a crate of finished potions with his face beet red.

                “You have such a way with words, love.”

                “I try, but honestly,” she held her hands up dramatically, “waiting for you two to seal the deal is making me anxious.”

                “So interested in my sex life, intriguing.” Cat quipped.

                “I can’t help it.” She perched on the edge of her work table, as she did so often, peering down at Cat with amusement, “Two pretty people I care for very much dancing about one another with all that tension? I’ve dreamt of you two together, I must have details.” This surprised Cat, the cocky expression she usually wore fell into curiosity.

                “Are we… masturbatory fodder for you, Ellana?” The elf, for once, blushed hard. The soft pink color went all the way to the tips of her ears. This was a revelation, Ellana had never expressed interest in her before then.

                “We can discuss that later,” she hurried along, “I am heading back to Emprise to do some dragon hunting. There are several lesser and one elder dragon that have taken up home that we are wanting to shake loose for research purposes. Considering the scope of the endeavor, I plan on taking most of my team with me along with a retinue of soldiers and support staff. Leliana will be staying behind, same with Josephine, but our dear ambassador will likely be kept entertained by our spymaster, possibly at my suggestion.”

                “I truly hope that this was all coincidence and you did not plan a dragon hunt to arrange for me to have sex.” Cat replied dryly.

                “No, pure coincidence, I assure you.” She beamed, waving a hand dismissively, “I do so love efficiency in my plans, however.”

                “Now you have me nervous to perform.” She laughed, the statement half-true. The opportunity coiled up inside her like a snake ready to strike.

                “Nonsense, pet, I am serious about the report though,” she braced her hands on the edge of the work table and slid off, graceful as a cat, “We leave in two days, first thing in the morning. The news should be hitting the bulk of our people now. I apologize for the surge in work I know is coming.”

                “I suppose it will keep me busy for the next couple of days, not a terrible thing.”

                “Always looking at the bright side, I love that about you.”

                The next two days did prove a blur in the library. Cat and several of the mage refugees spent morning through late night distilling potions, crafting oils, and preparing poultices for the forward group going to Emprise du Lion. Each night she went to bed long after the sun had set, her fingers delightfully sore and her hair smelling of herbs and charcoal. She indulged in a bath in the early light, after the kitchen staff had theirs and before the soldiers woke. Ridding herself of the soot and stains on her skin felt transformative, and she left the basin peachy pink and fresh. She left her hair down to dry and hastily dressed in a loose white blouse and high-wasted breeches to join Ellana and her crew for breakfast. The table was charged with pleasant energy, the large group of her inner circle excited to be travelling together and the prospect of encountering the dragons. Cullen was with the group as well, though he seemed decidedly less excited about the purpose of the trip, and looked to be debating Ellana as Cat arrived. She slid onto the bench next to Dorian with a fond hand on his shoulder, winning her a bright smile from the mage.

                “I will drop the subject, but you know how I feel on this, Inquisitor.”

                “Which is why I am taking so many that I trust. You must stay behind to ready the troops for the Arbor Wilds, we will need everyone in top form.”

                “I will be sending you progress reports from my scouts,” Leliana interjected, winning some favor with Cullen, “if the situation becomes heated, you may have to return early so that we may address it.”

                “Of course, I honestly do not expect to be gone more than a week. I am also sure the Commander would not mind sending a forward contingent while we catch up, if things become truly dire.” Catelyn wondered what was in the Arbor Wilds that was evolving into such an issue. She made note to speak with Cullen about it later.

                “I appreciate your candor on this, just,” Cullen hesitated, then pinned Ellana with a serious look, “be careful. There is only one of you, after all.”

                “Isn’t the world lucky for that?” She snorted, earning a giggle from Leliana. The meal concluded shortly after, and Cat excused herself to start assisting with packing the horses and wagons for the leaving team. As the caravan left through the main gate, she felt her chest constrict for a moment with the common fear of losing any of them. She looked back toward the keep and locked her gaze on Cullen’s. He shifted his weight back and forth, his eyes conflicted. She wanted to rush across the distance to him, the need for comfort overwhelming. He seemed to have the same idea, clenching his jaw before taking a step toward her. Her heart leapt, but she felt a hand on her elbow.

                “We need to start preparation for when they return, and the Arbor Wilds.” Adan said firmly and started back toward the rotunda, “they are not resting out there, and neither shall we.” Cat sighed and looked to Cullen again, who gave her a resigned nod before sighing and starting toward the stairs. She shot an apologetic glance at the Commander along her way, and saw his distinct disappointment.

                “No rest for the wicked, indeed.” She groused to herself before making her way to the library.

                The work was non-stop, and once again she found herself finishing her last distillation well after dark. She made it back to her small room and felt somewhat defeated, quite worried for her friends, and frustratingly pent up. Instead of collapsing in bed, she found a set of clean robes and undergarments, and made her way back to the baths. No one had been down there in hours, leaving the room blissfully quiet. She dipped her fingers into a basin filled with clear water from the nearby spring, and reached into herself for flame. There was no sense in burning wood for a single bath. She felt the mana surge through her body and out through her fingers, warming the water quickly to an almost scalding temperature. She stripped and sank into the water quickly, letting the warmth soak into every part of her body. After several minutes of uninterrupted bliss, she repeated her motions from the morning, scrubbing away the day from her skin and refreshing her hair. After drying off and dressing, she returned her clothes to her room and knelt by the fire, working the knots out of her hair with a comb and drying it.

                The Inquisition kept is bargain of food, shelter, and work. That deal was unfortunately saddled with a great amount of worry and stress. Why could she not fit in a little happiness when she felt this way? Once her hair had dried, she set the brush down with a huff. She remembered Ellana’s coincidental plan and suddenly felt foolish for sulking in her room when she could be getting exactly what she wanted. She picked at the end hem of her robes, her favorite ones. They were deep red, white fur-lined at the neck and sleeves, and laced up her front with a soft white ribbon. They made her feel beautiful, and she wondered if Cullen would agree. Her mind made up, she broke apart her fire, doused the candles, and left her small room after tossing her warmest cloak over her shoulders. To say it was freezing cold at Skyhold that night would have been an incredible understatement. She tugged the cloak closer against her and hurried up to the ramparts. She nodded and smiled at the guards she passed, but felt each step moving quicker as the biting cold chased her heels. She reached the tower that Ellana had mentioned Cullen stayed in, and realized that she had never been in his space before. She giggled nervously to herself before knocking lightly.

                “Unless you are bringing extremely good news, I am done working for the night.” She heard his voice, strained and annoyed, muffled through the thick wood of the door. She laughed out loud this time before opening the door and rushing in, shutting it tightly after her. She turned slowly and took in the room, barely realizing that she was breathing hard from her dash through the night. Cullen was bent over a large desk, one hand bracing his weight while the other had been tracing the lines of a map. The room smelled of books, ink, iron, and leather, rich and full. She immediately felt at ease.

                “I am hoping that I am good news?” She asked, somewhat unsure of her voice. She watched him straighten, his eyes trained on her, taking in her face before raking over her form. She nervously fiddled with the ties on her cloak before untying the knot and letting it drift to the floor.

                “I am not sure you could ever be bad news, Cat.” He said after a moment, quiet and controlled, “What are you doing here so late?”

                “I didn’t want to be alone,” she shrugged, “and I’m also tired of sneaking affection. I figured that your quarters might be the only place that I can get your undivided attention. If, that isn’t too forward of me.” She ended with a small smirk, and her heart leapt as she watched him round his desk and move toward her, movements made of strength and grace. Closing the gap, he extended one hand to cup her face, and the other skimmed around to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him and into deep kiss. The hum that rose in her throat was involuntary, a mixture of relief, satisfaction, and want. Her arms wrapped about his biceps, fingers clutching into the fabric of his tunic and into his skin. He was so gloriously warm, the discomfort of the cold outside immediately lifted, but his nearness struck a shiver down her spine. She felt him smile into the kiss before he pulled back to look at her, the hand on her jaw moving to thread through her dark hair.

                “You and I think alike, I’m just too shy to act first, I suppose.”

                “You don’t have to be shy with me.” She exhaled, thrilled to the bones to finally be so close. She lifted onto her toes and kissed him again with more fervor. He groaned, the hand in her hair loosened itself and slunk around her back to span across her clothed flesh, leaving the skin warm and tingling. She let go of his arms and wound her hands around his neck, pulling him down toward her, one set of fingers tangling in his curly blonde hair. She parted her lips in invitation and he wasted no time in taking advantage, moving hers apart with his own and letting his tongue dart out to taste hers. He pressed her back against the door, caging her in and settling his hands on the tops of her hips, kneading at them softly. She could feel herself growing more pliant, Cullen could have her at his beck and call in a snap with how he touched her.

                A sharp banging against the door startled her so badly that she yelped.

                “Ser, we have the latest scouting reports from Redcliffe.” Came an unsure voice from beyond the door. Cat felt a surge of annoyance boil up within her, how could they be getting interrupted again, especially at such a late hour! She looked up at Cullen and saw his eyes pinned to the door behind her, his displeasure evident. If she had been on the receiving end of such a glare, she would have found the nearest exit and retreat.

                “Unless Corypheus himself has been spotted waltzing with bears south of Redcliffe, I do not give a damn right now.” His voice was more of a growl than that of a man, “In fact, unless this keep lights on fire in the next twelve hours, I am to be undisturbed. Inform the rest of the guard and the other advisors. Understood?” The last word felt punctuated, a verbal punch into the sturdy wooden door. It set an unnatural thrill alight inside of her.

                “Y-yes Ser!” Came the stuttered but strong reply, followed by the clink of armor as its wearer rushed away. Cat leaned her head forward onto his chest, hiding her face in the fur of the mantle he wore, and let out a soft laugh.

                “My apologies,” he said softly, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes, “I did not scare you, I hope?”

                “I am so glad you said it, I don’t think I could sound scary enough to run them off.” He grinned and pressed his mouth to hers softly.

                “I don’t know about that,” he whispered against her lips when they parted, “something tells me you have a fearsome side in you.” She marveled at him. She knew that lust threw a heavy haze over any situation, but she was certain that she had yet to find a more beautiful man than he, and the deep fierce soul he possessed.

                “So, twelve hours then? What do you have in mind?”

                “I can think of some trouble to get into,” he smiled back, winding his arms around the small of her back and turning her around, walking her backward across the room, “it involves less armor, and less clothing in general.”

                “So forward of you.” She smirked before her back bumped into something. She tilted her head up and back and spotted a ladder leading to the next level of the tower. “Ah, bedroom?”

                “Indeed.”

                “And here I thought we would be using your desk.” She quipped, earning her a moan and a deep kiss.

                “Later,” he looked her in the eye, then glanced over at the desk for a moment, “absolutely later, do not doubt that. Tonight will be proper, however.”

                “What if I don’t want proper?” She purred, fingers playing at the fur of his mantle once more.

                “I will make it worth your while, I promise. Now, up the ladder, love, I will follow in a moment.” He kissed her once more and reluctantly released her. She grabbed the rungs of the ladder and began to climb, careful of her skirts and the strong shaking in her limbs. He was undoing her already. He was tidying his desk and snuffing the candles in the room as she reached the top. She hauled herself up to the stone floor of the second level and took the space in. There was a hearth that had embers burning in it, so she crossed the room and set a few additional logs atop it. She stoked the fire with her magic until it was bright, cheery, and warming the room. She set the candles alight as well and took the time to observe the space. It was rather spartan, as she assumed it would be. A large bed had a single side-table next to it with a lantern atop it, there was an armor stand next to a heavy wardrobe, and a small writing desk that looked unused aside from a bundle of letters on one corner. There was also a good amount of firewood stacked on either side of the hearth. She quirked an eyebrow at the rather large hole in the ceiling above the ladder, the stars of the clear night glittering through. She found herself nervously tugging at the hems of her sleeves and turned back to face the fire, its warm light keeping her warm.

                She felt him approach instead of hearing him a few moments later, and felt a possessive satisfaction when his arms wrapped around her hips from behind. He set her against his chest, and dipped his head to kiss her temple. Cat had always leaned toward the company of women, but it was men like Cullen who broke past her preference. Strong, but soft and kind. Generous and mindful spirits.

                “You tell me to stop, and I stop, no questions asked.” He spoke low into her ear, and she nodded.

                “The same goes for you,” she lifted a hand to cup his face, feeling the stubble from the day beneath her fingers, “no questions asked.” He brushed her hair aside and kissed the side of her neck, below her jaw. The flame of arousal licked through her again and she sighed. He stepped away from her and around to the armor rack, she shot him a pouty glance. He just laughed darkly and began to remove his armor.

                “Would you prefer me to keep all this on?” She considered him for a moment before linking her hands behind her back.

                “Hmm, another time.” She saw his hands still for just a moment before continuing, “Perhaps when we utilize your desk.” His eyes grew darker, but a stunning smile lit his face. His pauldrons and gauntlets were off, followed by the breastplate and then the mantle. Even with the bulky pieces of armor off, Cullen was not a small man, and Catelyn appreciated the form of him. She could not wait to see more.

                “You know exactly what you want, don’t you?” He asked as he snapped the buckles open on his grieves.

                “Oh, yes.” She beamed at him. His boots were shucked off quickly and he crossed the space between them in two strides, pulling her against his unarmored body. He kissed her forehead and allowed his hands to slide up and down her sides, fingers splayed over her ribs. She arched into him, chest flush against his. By the Maker, she felt nothing except muscle on him. Being the Commander had not made him idle, she mused to herself.

                “What do I need to do to get you out of your robes?” She blushed prettily at his boldness. One of his hands slipped between them and played with the knot of the ribbon that cinched her bodice closed.

                “Ask nicely.”

                “May I?” He smirked as he tugged on one of the loose tails of the knot. She felt her mouth dry slightly, unable to stem the sudden surge of self-consciousness. She nodded and kissed him hard to distract them both, keeping a squeak quiet as she felt the knot slide free. She was a soft mage, not fit like the lady soldiers, guards, and scouts of the keep. Not a rogue queen like Ellana. She worried he would not care for what was beneath her robes. She felt silly at the sudden rush of emotion, but it refused to subside. She ignored the loosening of the fabric and focused instead on kissing him in earnest. Her tongue darted out to tease his lower lip, him allowing her in with an appreciative groan. She tangled her hands in his hair, learning the space within his mouth before playfully taking hold of his lower lip between her teeth, winning a rather desperate sounding grunt from Cullen. She felt him loosen the fabric further, then reach up to tug open the robes at her collar, slipping fabric over her shoulders before pushing it down her arms and to her waist. She shivered and held him tighter, letting her hands wander over his strong shoulders and upper back.

                She felt the fabric of her robes fall completely once he pushed them over the widest span of her hips. She blushed suddenly when he pulled away to look at her. As a matter of pride, she refused to cover herself. Her smallclothes were rudimentary and comfortable, the same with her breast band. She had once seen fancy undergarments made of lace while she was in Val Royeaux, but could not bring herself to spend the coin on them. She nervously wondered if he would like them instead. Her breasts were larger but firm with youth, her waist tapering sharply before flaring out again to her wide hips, her belly slightly rounded, thighs on the thicker side but shapely.

                “Oh Cat.” He exhaled on a sigh, pushing her fears away as he pulled her close again, reigniting their kisses with intensity she had not expected. Her hands clamored to his chest, fingers shakily finding the laces keeping his tunic closed at the neck. She pulled them wide and then began to yank at the fabric where it disappeared into his breeches. He parted from her long enough to pull the offending garment off, tossing it aside carelessly before putting his greedy hands back upon her. She took his face in both hands and kissed him sweetly before letting them trail down his neck and settle on the pads of his pectorals. His hands roamed everywhere on her form, up and down her arms, the length of her spine, the span of her ribs, and the swell of her stomach. She gasped as they roamed over her hips and ass, only to stop and grip her firmly. He bent his head to the side and bit her neck, softly at first, beneath her ear. Encouraged by the yelp of pleasure that it pulled from her throat, he bit down a bit harder before soothing the pain with his lips and tongue. Her arousal felt heavy in her belly, she found herself unconsciously pressing her thighs together for relief. He cupped her backside where the back of her thighs met and she moaned in frustration.

                “You’re going to kill me if you keep this up.”

                “Are you sure? I think you would beg first, and I would be a cur to deny you mercy.” His voice dripped like honey across the sinful promise.

                “You think I would beg so easily?” She asked as she gripped the hair at the base of his skull and pulled him back to meet his eyes, earning her a delighted hiss.

                “Perhaps not, but I intend to bring you to it.” He stooped then and hooked his arms under her thighs, hoisting her up as she gave a soft shriek that broke into a laugh. She held onto his shoulders and wrapped her legs about his hips, unable to help the grin that split her lips. But oh, was he strong! He held her with confidence and let her pepper his face with small kisses. “You are… one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.” She felt her face flush as she dipped her chin down, eyes resting on the dip between his clavicles. She was unused to compliments in her trysts, and growing up in The Circle had left her feeling like she was inherently broken for her magic. When he said things like that, however, she dared hope to believe them. Before she could come up with a decent response, he was moving them to the bed. He kissed the bridge of her nose playfully before letting her drop to the center of mattress.

                “Hey now!” She played indignant and settled herself more comfortably against the pillows and headboard, “Is that any way to treat a lady?” Her eyes were betraying her false outrage, though. The man before her was simply stunning, a weapon of war in body with a nobleman’s face. The musculature of his shoulders, arms, and chest were deeply cut, and she openly admired the shadows the fire threw on them.

                “Enough protests, less clothing. I need you naked.” It was not quite a demand, but nor was it a question. She held his gaze, feeding off his confidence to move her fingers to her breast band. She undid the stays and slid the garment off, grinning when she saw his concentration break and his eyes dip to her breasts. She skimmed her fingers down her stomach to her hips, where she hooked her index fingers into both sides of her smallclothes and tugged them down slowly. She shimmied slowly to help draw the fabric over her backside and down her thighs, her mound and the dark thatch of curls that covered it now bare to him. She brought her knees up to remove the garment from her legs, before pitching them toward Cullen. Despite his obvious distraction, he snatched them from the air before tossing them onto the night stand. His solid weight was upon her in the next moment, body caging hers carefully as they kissed. The hand not bearing his weight wove a firm trail of warmth from her neck, over her breasts, down her stomach, and to her hip before repeating the process in reverse. He stopped at her right breast and squeezed experimentally, earning a sigh and her arms around his neck as he rolled her rosy nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She pulled him close, arching her chest up to try to meet his. He simply kept exploring her body patiently, enjoying her increasingly desperate noises and clutches. He broke their kiss and rested his forehead upon hers, then trailed his hand down again to her hip. He nudged gently at her thigh and she grinned, opening her legs slowly for him. He nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed her below her ear, making her giggle, before he brushed his knuckles against her outer lips. Cat’s eyes snapped shut as she felt the sensation ripple through her from core to toes. Encouraged, he bit down gently and sucked at her neck, then parted her lips with two fingers, running them up toward her clitoris with soft pressure. She released a sob, both of pleasure and relief, her hands grasping at his back and nails biting into his skin.

                With her eyes closed, she became aware of her skin’s hypersensitivity. Every part of her he touched felt gloriously warm. The pressure he was building between her legs shortened her breath, and she was vaguely aware of herself mumbling his name in praise. He touched her with fervor before pressing his index finger inside, letting his thumb stay planted over her clit, rubbing in small circles. Her legs fell apart wider at this, and he shifted his position to kneel between them. The sensation rising in her body was nothing new, but with a new partner it felt raw, wild. He slipped another finger inside of her and she cried out before she could stop herself.

                “Please!” She felt him grin smugly against her neck.

                “Please what?”

                “I need…” Her voice trailed off in a whine.

                “Release?” He pumped his fingers inside of her rhythmically.

                “Yes!” She growled. He removed his fingers and leaned up, and she looked up at him with frustration. She parted her lips to complain only to stop when he shifted further back on the bed, his hands settling to the side of her thighs. He looked disheveled, painfully aroused, the scar on his lip highlighting the wicked half-smile he wore in the fire light. She held her breath as she watched him settle between her legs, gripping her thighs and guiding them over his shoulders. He settled down into the mattress while trailing kisses down her left thigh, not stopping when he reached the apex between, planting another soft kiss to the top of her mound. His position allowed him to keep her still, his large hands holding her where her legs met her hips. He kept eye contact as he pressed a harder kiss to her outer lips, the sight of him contentedly nestled between her legs blush-worthy. He boldly licked into her center then, causing her hips to buck at the same time he released a groan of satisfaction. He did not allow her to recover before pressing her hips to the bed and exploring her in earnest. Cat had missed this closeness more than she had thought, her toes curling and her hands fisting into the bedding beneath them.

                “Fuck, I’ve wanted you like this for so long.” He drawled against her before teasing at her entrance in slow, lazy circles. She gasped, back arching, crown of her head pressing back into the pillow. He kept her hips rock steady, single-minded in his pursuit of her pleasure. “I noticed you when you first arrived, couldn’t help but find you beautiful.” He released one of her thighs and slid two of his fingers inside of her, pumping slowly as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit. Cat was quickly reaching her peak, her left hand moving down to tangle in his hair, her right grasping her own breast. She hardly recognized her own voice as it pitched higher.

                “Cullen please,” she groaned, pinning him with a lidded stare, “please let me-“

                “Yes.” He hissed harshly and dove into her in earnest, using lips, tongue, and nose to stimulate her. He slipped a third finger inside of her, and she felt herself clamp down in response. She was a mess, sobbing with how good it all felt. As her orgasm overcame her, she scraped her nails along his scalp while calling his name, holding his face to her dripping core. He lapped up her release eagerly, drawing out the rush until her hips and thighs were shaking. She felt all the tension melt from her body as it passed, and enjoyed the sinful view of him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She held her arms out to him, and surprised him when he came close by grabbing him about the shoulders and yanking him down into a kiss. To his merit, he recovered quickly and kissed her back. She rocked her hips up into his and he growled, his erection pressed into the wet heat of her.

                “Now you’re the one wearing too many clothes.” She broke the kiss and quipped, then cocked her head to nibble along his neck. He moaned, seemingly too wound up to protest. He unlaced his breeches quickly and shucked them and his smallclothes at the same time. His erection sprang free, ridged and flushed. She took him in hand before he could protest, grinning at him when he grunted and bucked into her hand. His size did not disappoint, perhaps not the longest she had ever seen, but certainly the thickest. She wondered if it was why he had fucked her with three fingers. She guided him toward her swollen cunt and rubbed the head of him through her folds to cover him in her slick, an involuntary moan ripping through them both.

                “Cat, I can’t wait with you doing that.”

                “Then don’t.” She smiled in encouragement and guided him toward her entrance. He took the lead and pressed in slowly, Cat thankful for the pace as she felt him stretch her. Once he had pressed inside fully, he paused his hips and she took the moment to breathe, to appreciate how he felt inside her. She moaned long when he canted his hips slowly back out, feeling every inch of him drag against her inner walls before he thrusted back in. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she trailed her hands up and down his broad back as he began a slow pace, her short nails scraping across scarred yet smooth skin. In the moment, he was an overwhelming presence, heavy, large, all around her. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and he sighed, his hips increasing their pace. She kissed his neck and thrusted her hips to meet his in time. Her orgasm was close again, and by the way he was beginning to pant and groan, she figured he was not far behind. He must have felt her core tense around him, because he began to snap his hips into hers with more force, pushing her over the edge. She cried out and held onto him helplessly as she came. She determinedly kept meeting his hips with her own through the waves, feeling triumphant when his hips stuttered, and he slammed into her hard, barking out a broken cry as he spent himself inside her.

                They collapsed together for several moments, breathing hard, peppering one another with soft kisses on any skin they ran across. She felt delightfully sated, enjoying the beginnings of soreness between her legs. He slipped from inside her and rolled them over, tucking her against his side, their limbs tangling together. He chuckled as she flicked her fingers to extinguish the candles before they drifted into sleep.


End file.
